


Citadel Coffeeshop

by mewties (icantbelieveitsnotmeulin)



Series: The Tristen-Prompted Bioware Quartet [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantbelieveitsnotmeulin/pseuds/mewties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrus takes the wrong person's coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Citadel Coffeeshop

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from tokilladm: “Jane and Garrus are in a Coffee Shop AU on the Citadel (Garrus accidentally grabbed her coffee)"

How do you grab the first human spectre’s coffee. How. How does it happen?? In what way does “Jane” sound like whatever attempted pronunciation of “Garrus” the space barista would say??? She grabbed it right after you, too. It would be impossible to mistake her for a civilian, she holds herself straight, disciplined, broad, clearly military at a glance, at least to someone like you. Uncomfortably, you chuckle, apologizing and swearing it was reflex. Of course you’ve heard of her, she’s been C-Sec gossip for weeks. You may have read her official file. She tells you it’s fine, and takes a sip of her coffee. She doesn’t leave. She’s standing there, waiting, watching you. You ask her what for. 

"I want to see if you even ordered the same thing,” she says. Well, not exactly the same thing, different biologies and all. Plus you ordered a scone. You tell her this, and she laughs, but she doesn’t leave. You end up chatting with her, even after your drink and your scone come out, about being a Spectre, about C-Sec, swapping stories about crazy missions. 

"Vakarian, huh?” She repeats before she leaves. “I might have something coming up I’ll need help for, I’ll have to keep you in mind.”   ****

“You should probably get my mail address.” You slide a slip across the table to her, where you’ve written down not your C-Sec, but your personal mail account. “Just in case.” You wink at her (that’s a human thing, right?), and she raises her eyebrows as she takes it.

“Does that normally work for you?”

You lean forward, head hovering above your hands, your elbows on the small round table. “Would it help or hurt my chances if I said yes?”

She just shakes her head, smiling, and leaves, but you see her around more as time passes. She finds your table, you swap case stories, catch up. When she needs to talk to someone from C-Sec, she asks for you, and it’s making people around the station whisper. Eventually, you manage to ask her out to dinner. She pauses, thinks, and then curses. You ask her why.

“If you’d waited a week, I would’ve been 10,000 credits richer.” You feign offense, going on with a humorous tinge of dramatics, but you notice she didn’t say no.


End file.
